


Early Morning Spar

by Ozonee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Genji isn't in this, It's mostly just implied - Freeform, Jesse losing himself for a brief moment, M/M, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozonee/pseuds/Ozonee
Summary: Jesse McCree loses his cool during training, a sight not often seen.





	

Back in Deadlock, on days where the sun set too slowly and the alcohol came too fast, they’d gather in a discreet location on the outskirts of the city. It was a different place every time, but it was always scouted out, making sure no police cruisers were patrolling nearby. Making sure they could get loud and rowdy without civilians calling the cops. Making sure no one was nearby to get shot if a fight broke out. 

They’d either draw from some greasy hat or let people challenge whoever they had beef with, which was about ninety-nine percent of the time. People in Deadlock were always itching to fight, especially if it had been a quiet week. Jesse usually waited near the outer edge of the group, keeping a look-out. He was smart. He knew he had a quick tongue and low self-awareness, he knew there were about fifteen guys in Deadlock who would jump at the chance to punch Jesse McCree in the face. 

He couldn’t do that here.

Gabe had told him from the beginning: “Watch your tongue.” Explaining: “We train every other morning.” Warning: “I won’t step in if someone wants to punch your face in. Fuck, I’ve barely known you a couple months and I’ve had to hold myself back. Would look like shit if I beat on a new recruit.” 

Jesse had taken it as a compliment.

It’s been almost two years since he was recruited into Blackwatch. Every other morning they would wake up, run laps, lift weights, train, train, train. At the end of it all, there was one on one sparring, if you had built up energy left over from the intense work-out session that the instructors gave them. And, usually, Jesse just watched.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight, he absolutely could. It was a simple case of stone cold laziness that kept him from doing it. He didn’t need to prove anything to Gabe, Gabe took him on missions more times than any other recruit. He’s seen him shoot, he’s seen him handle himself. 

It was also a damn fine coincidence that Gabe was out of the room at the moment, probably handing in reports to the Strike-Commander Morrison upstairs. Wily reports, they were. Jesse’s commented countless times on the bruise-like marks on Gabe’s neck whenever he returned from Jesus Christ Superstar’s office. A cold stare was enough to end that conversation when it happened.

“Hey, shitface.” Jesse was expecting Gabe when he heard that, but when he looked up it just happened to be salt-of-the-Earth Fred Robertson. He was recruited around the same time Jesse was, but had been far less successful in impressing anyone. “You know Angela?”

“Now,” _‘Watch your tongue’_ Gabe warned in his head. Jesse smirked, “I know for a fact she didn’t tell you her name, and Lord have mercy, I know you can’t read, so where’d you hear that?”

Robertson inhaled like a pufferfish, trying to make himself appear bigger, stronger. He was, by a mile, bigger and stronger than Jesse, “Watch your fucking mouth, cocklick. I wanna know what days she’s got off.” The charming people at Blackwatch talked like this to each other quite a bit, but there was a growing tension that made some recruits slide down the bench, away from the oncoming storm. 

“You fancy her or somethin’?”

“Beautiful blonde and cum-on-me tits, what’s not to ‘fancy’? I suppose you wouldn’t know much about that, though. Everyone knows you’re queer for that omnic ninja.”

They weren’t allowed firearms in the gym for this exact reason.

Jesse clicked his tongue and had Gabe, like a record, playing in his mind, _watch your temper, watch your temper, watch your temper_ , “Just cause I got friends don’t mean I wanna fuck ‘em.” _If God smote liars_.

“Angela’s off days, when?” 

“Ain’t your business.” He was her friend, or he liked to think so. Friends protect friends from people like Fred Robertson. “Something tells me she’s got standards higher than a pitbull-looking motherfucker that doesn’t know the safety from his trigger on his rifle.”

Jesse didn’t know why he was spouting shit at a guy a full foot taller than him. It’d been a month and a half since the last mission, maybe is why. His fingers twitched, he wanted his gun. He settled for clenching his fist and taking it gracefully when Robertson reeled back and struck him across the face. He fell off the bench and landed hard on his back, his shoulder aching in a ‘that’s gonna hurt tomorrow’ sort of way. He barely got his bearings before he was lifted back up by the collar, his head dipping limply down and letting his hat fall off his head. Robertson tossed him like a doll over to the training mats, where Jesse landed, again, on his ass. 

“You wanna talk big? You wanna fucking talk big?” Robertson roared as he delivered another swift punch to his face. The skin caught sharply on the edge of Jesse’s tooth and tore, leaving a bloody and open cut on his bottom lip. More strikes happened after that, though Jesse didn’t raise his arms to protect himself. Robertson continued, “You’re a fucking pussy, you know that? Thinking you’re so fucking special, we all know you’d _jump_ at the chance to suck Commander Reyes’ cock.”

“Who’s sucking my cock?” And in an instant, Robertson was off of him. Gabe hadn’t pulled him off, but Robertson knew when to show respect when he entered the room.

“Sir,” He greeted, looking nervously down at Jesse pushing himself up on his elbows, spitting blood on the mat.

Gabe didn’t have an inkling of shock on his face when he saw Jesse. He waited, unimpressed nonetheless, for Jesse to stand up and raise his hand as a cheeky wave. He put his hand under his bleeding nose and checked the damage to his lip.

“Sir,” Robertson continued, “We were just, uh, sparring.”

“That’s what that was?” Jesse mumbled, hacking up another spout of blood.

Gabe studied them for a long time, mostly looking at Jesse, then back to Robertson. He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “You just gonna take that?” He said, looking Jesse right in the eyes.

Now with permission, Jesse struck from behind. It’s how they did it in Deadlock, and if it worked, it worked. There were no qualms in the Blackwatch war about striking someone in the back. Jesse drove his foot into the back of Robertson’s knee, then punched him in the throat when he was low enough. Agents around them winced when Robertson fell to the floor, but Jesse followed him, straddling his chest and dripping blood down onto the other man’s face.

“‘Cum-on-me tits’, huh?” He hissed, driving his fist into Robertson’s face so hard the whole gym heard the crack of bone. “Awfully rude of you to,” Another punch, “Say that about a woman,” He drilled his fist into his nose, “Who works as hard as her.”

Jesse doesn’t know what happened after that. Years of anger, depression, anxiety, unloaded itself until he was shaking with every punch. His family, Deadlock, Blackwatch, everything Jesse had ever stressed over, the wrong coffee order, when he missed a crucial shot, Deadlock members using him as an ashtray during his initiation days when he was just sixteen, all that anger poured out of him. 

“And he’s not an omnic.” He choked, until he realized Robertson wasn’t moving anymore and Gabe had a grip on his arm that could only be the man with SEP enhancements. He almost felt his bone crack from the shear force as he was ripped off of Robertson’s unconscious body.

The look on Gabe’s face made Jesse almost wish he were in prison instead. The cold look of disappointment was one he wished he’d never see again, though he knew he would. He wanted to plead that it’d never happen again, he doesn’t know where it came from, but before he could, Gabe was ordering someone to run to the nearby medbay and grab a nurse. He turned to Jesse.

“You, medbay, too.” But, just as Jesse got up, “ _West_ side.” 

Jesse closed his eyes and swore but picked himself up. They were on the East side of the headquarters, and it wasn’t exactly a small place. Sending people to the West medbay was likely just a way to make them suffer when Gabe was mad. It was easily a twenty minute walk, even with the moving sidewalks and elevators.

Walking to the door, he hesitated, then went back for his hat that had fallen under the bench. No agent would look him in the eye, not that he cared.

Jesse couldn’t wait for the usual, ‘ _Do you know what I had to do to get you here?_ ’ speech from Gabe.

 

+---+

 

“Sorry,” Angela murmured, face in total concentration as she worked the needle through Jesse’s lip. “Not too many stitches, fortunately. I don’t usually see the results of Blackwatch sparring sessions, this seems costly for the eastern medbay.” She smiled gently, clipping the stitch and finishing her work.

“It ain’t… it weren’t exactly a usual session, I guess.” Jesse would rather sell popsicles in hell than explain to Angela why it happened, though. “Just got a bit heated. You should see the other guy.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back over to her desk. Stripping off her latex gloves, she donned new ones, fresh, non-bloodied ones. “Let me see your hand.”

It had been resting in a pan of ice by Jesse’s side. He pulled it out and clenched it, hissing when the pain shot up his arm.

Angela examined his bloodied and bruised knuckles, a feint look of worry on her face. “You’re very right, I wouldn’t like to see the other guy.” 


End file.
